Crowned- an ACOTAR collection
by SongofThunder
Summary: A collection of one-shots about how the people of Prythian, Hybern, and the Mortal Lands came into their respective powers.
1. Rhysand

**Crowned- an ACOTAR collection**

 **Word Count: 546**

 **Summary: A collection of one-shots about how the people of Prythian, Hybern, and the Mortal Lands came into their respective powers.**

 **Author's note: God, this was an interesting idea and I've already written like six of these. I'm not doing them in any particular order and I won't listen to requests for a new chapter or anything. These are written strictly when inspiration starts.**

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Chapter One- Rhysand

The war began as soon as their heads were found.

We never recovered their bodies, but the image is seated in my mind to this day- my sister's head, eyes wide, bloody, raven hair wet and slick, mouth twisted in an eternal, terrible scream. My mother's eyes, closed, a serene expression on her face, awaiting death. Her own hair, jagged and cut.

I was supposed to be there. Supposed to have my head there. In a box. Matching theirs. The idea was sickening.

And Tam. Tam sold me out. Tam. Tam, who I thought was my friend, helped slaughter my sister, my mother.

No, not Tam. Tamlin. Tam is what his friends were to call him. Tamlin was no friend of mine.

My father took me aside. Asked me. About revenge.

It took only a second for me to accept.

"But don't kill his mother," I whispered. "Promise me."

Because while Tamlin had betrayed me, while his brothers had been monsters, the Lady had been kind to me. She- she never hurt a soul. And she reminded me of my own mother, albeit gentler.

My father only nodded.

We were there in minutes. Tamlin's brothers raised their weapons and found they couldn't. Their minds thrashed, but eventually they all melted, and I continued killing. Even when they were all dead, I bloodied their bodies, stabbing them over and over. My father slipped into the Lord's room and I heard the sickening snap of bone.

I followed him, and there he was, The former High Lord, barely breathing, his limbs severed from his body, his eyes gouged out, bloody, but alive. A single ash spear through the stomach pinned him to the ground. My father let him suffer.

And next to him, the Lady of Spring lay dead, her neck snapped, her blue eyes lifeless and terrified.

 _You promised. You PROMISED._

Because he had.

"You promised." My father said nothing, chest heaving.

"Promises are easily made and easily broken."

I thought of my promise to Mor, how easy it had been to make, how hard it had been to break.

"You're wrong."

He didn't seem to hear me as he made his way to the door.

"Father."

He turned into the hall towards…

Cauldron, he was turning towards Tamlin's room.

"Father, stop."

I followed him, but he still drew his blade, dripping with the blood of the Spring Court.

"STOP!"

I threw my hands up, dropped my blade, and my father looked at me, breathing heavily, sword on the floor.

I would replay this moment over and over in my dreams.

The door in front of him opened, and there stood Tamlin.

A second passed, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.

And then rage flew over his face and, using sheer strength, punched my father into the opposite wall.

I heard the crack echo, and my father slumped to the floor.

Somewhere down the hall, the High Lord of Spring took his last, feeble. breath.

And then power flooded my senses, flowing from my father to me, and I saw light flow from down the hall into Tamlin.

I stood there like a fool while we were both titled High Lord.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

A heartbeat passed.

And I began to run.


	2. Morrigan

**Crowned: an ACOTAR collection**

 **Morrigan**

 **Word Count: 461**

 **Summary: A collection of stories on how the Inner Circle and the world around them came into their respective powers. Please review.**

 **Author's Note: I wanted to do Mor of this story (pun intended) since I started it so of course, I did More MorTM. THIS IS OF COURSE MEANT TO BE CANON SO TELL ME IF I DID IT WRONG**

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She was terrified.

She had done everything to stop it. Everything to stop the power from rushing through her blood.

It had begun in her heart, and she had worked so hard to keep it there.

But the magic had other thoughts, and although she restrained it, it broke loose, wild and free like she never would become- (lie) and rushed through her veins.

Lies are meant to make you see nothing.

Yet- she saw.

 _Truth._

She had been afraid her power would be the killing power, like the Illyrians had, the power to kill and create weapons, or perhaps the ability to mist, to turn soldiers and items into nothing but fog. Maybe she would become a shadowsinger like the one Rhysand had told her about- what was his name- oh, Azriel.

But when she got her power, it wasn't a relief at all.

 _Truth._

That was her power. Pure, unabashed truth.

Oh, she could still lie, of course. What would become of a High Fae, a creature of deception, who could not lie?

But she could see through every one.

"I feel nothing for him."

 _Lie._

"The last human queen was sick."

 _Lie._

"No, it wouldn't be so bad…"

 _Truth._

She had fed on truth, relished the small moments her family did not lie to her- was that why she suddenly saw so much of it?

Was that why it hurt so much when her family lied- when they told her that despite her power, her ability- they were still better and more powerful than her- a lie- is that why it hurt so much when they told the truth, that they were selling her to be used for breeding, to be used as a wife of the Autumn Court, and she saw the horrible, disgusting truth in it?

She wrote to her cousin.

The letter was elaborate, but the message was simple: _Please, help me stop this. Please, please, please don't let them take me._

He wrote back within seconds.

 _I'll do everything I can_

And then the letter trailed off, the corner torn, as if the letter had been ripped away from him and he had only had a small amount of time to send it back.

But she saw the truth (and hated it.)

She knew her cousin, knew Rhysand would do everything possible to stop her family.

She was thankful, but still terrified.

He was the son of a High Lord known for his cruelty. On his last visit, there were marks all along his wings and along his back. He hadn't said what had happened, but she had known.

No one would dare hurt the son of the High Lord of the Night Court.

 _Lie._

No one, but the High Lord himself.

 _Truth._


	3. Amren Part One

**Crowned: an ACOTAR collection**

 **Amren Part One**

 **Word Count: 693**

 **Summary: A collection of stories on how the Inner Circle and the world around them came into their respective powers. Please review.**

 **Author's Note: Thanks to PretendThisIsWitty for the idea that Amren was once the Angel of Death in their story Velaris: Fury and Ruin. READ IT THEIR FICS ARE AWESOME. I did modify it slightly, though.**

When she was Made but not quite Born, power already streamed through her veins.

Her brothers feared her. Her sisters feared her. Azrael himself feared her.

Was Azrael the Angel of Death, did Azrael have what was once hers, after she had gone?

She watched the humans her Father had made. They were made in the image of her and her siblings, and her Father himself. He had Made them, and they had grown.

She was there when the woman took the fruit, watching through the eyes of the doomed serpent. She was there when He decided to flood the world, destroying his creation so he could try to make the world perfect once again.

She watched the humans build, and knew how it was made, but was confused when they invented things, new ways to farm and give light and new ways to explore. She was confused as she realized that although she could physically build all these things, she lacked the imagination for them, lacked the need that would have driven her to build.

She was confused when humans fell in love, when they began to be drawn to each other, and instead of using each other for children, like she, her siblings, and her Father did, they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. What was the feeling they had? She knew happiness, but not like they did. What would it be like to love?

She did not understand hate, and why humans seemed to simply dislike each other. No, not dislike. Something further than dislike, something burning and terrible that her Father only described as 'hatred.' What had they done that was so horrible? She knew her Father had hated the first woman and man, but that was because they disobeyed the only instruction they were given, a simple task a child could have followed. What drove the humans to hate each other so badly?

Curiosity killed the cat, the humans said, but they did not know that curiosity also killed the Angel of Death. Amren was curious, so curious, when a rip opened in the world, and she walked through.

It hurt.

She screamed, the first true pain she had ever experienced, and was dropped into a new, colorful world.

And suddenly, everything was different.

And Amren realized what it was like to be truly lonely.

She had always felt her sisters beside her, felt their presence, their laughter, their sadness when she did her job and took a soul away.

She suddenly understood why those humans had been so devastated when left alone in the forest, or in a city, or in somewhere they did not know.

She looked up at the cave, turned around so she could come back through the doorway because surely He could fix her-

And it wasn't there.

She touched the walls of the cave she had come through, hoping for a secret door like the humans had built into their large stone pyramids and their temples, but there was nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing but a small tree, some plants, stones that shone in the light of her fiery wings.

Alone. Alone.

And Amren wanted vengeance.

She did not think for a second that her Father had opened up the rip in the world. He could not have. Her Father most definitely had the power, but he would not do that to her, would not shut out his Angel of Death.

Would he?

No. No. No.

The people of this land. They must be responsible for this. They must have ripped her away from her sisters, and ripped her away from her home.

Amren had lacked the ability to hate. But when she felt the burning sensation in her chest, of terrible, horrible anger at these people, she thought perhaps she had had it all along.

Amren flexed her fingers, sheared off her long hair. It would grow back, and for now she needed it away so she could teach these people a lesson.

So she could teach them what it felt like to be torn away.

So she could teach them what it felt like to be targeted by the Angel of Death.


End file.
